


kindling

by anonone



Series: Knowing and unknowing [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Compulsion, Crying, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, Jonathan Sims Needs a Hug, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Psychological Torture, Spanking, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24096337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonone/pseuds/anonone
Summary: Elias's Archivist isn't progressing nearly as quickly as he had hoped, he decides a more disciplined approach to his training is in order
Series: Knowing and unknowing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738594
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	kindling

**Author's Note:**

> i'm planning for there to be more of this story but I like kudos so fuck having chapters they're all gonna be separate works

Jon reached the top of the steps, Elias was there ready and waiting, door in hand. It was freaky how he always seemed to know when someone was going to be there, but then, Jon interupted his own thoughts, of course he did, this meeting had been scheduled for a week. Jon did his best to shake off the paranoia he knew was creeping in.  
"Ah Jon, do come in." Elias beckoned him into his office, the furniture, consisting of boxes and boxes of miscellaneous artefacts lining the walls, two chairs and a desk which had been pushed against the wall, on top of which had been placed a tape recorder and a statement , managed to be both spartan and cluttered. Jon thought it apt considering the paradox of a man that was Elias Bouchard. Jon was suddenly struck with the realisation that he couldn't possibly know that that was a statement on the desk, it was too far away to read and by all logic it should be his performance review but, he didn't know how, he just knew. Doing his best to ignore this unsettling train of thought, he made to sit down.  
"Oh no need for that Jon, I'd like you to read the statement please." something tugged at the back of Jon’s brain at the conformation that the paper was infact a statement but he filed it away for a less pressing time. He made to pick up the statement but Elias's firm voice halted him in his tracks "Don't touch it, just, read it." The statement had been placed at the back of the desk. Jon cast his eyes over to Elias and held his gaze with a silent question as he bent awkwardly over the smooth polished wood. Elias just nodded and gestured to the paper, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Best just to get on with it Jon thought, he began to read. " statement of Georgia Wilkes taken -” the sharp sound of rushing air followed by a loud slap. Then the pain caught up with him, his breath hitched. His brain short circuited, what the fuck? he turned to ask Elias what in gods name he thought he was doing when Elias cut him off "what does the statement say Jon?" His voice ringing with the static of what Jon would later look back and realise was compulsion but in the moment it was a detail that couldn't seem to register. "Y-yes right of course...the...the statement." He continued to read, something in his gut pulled at him but he shushed it down, probably paranoia. He cleared his throat, “statement of Georgia Wilkes” the hand came down again, hard. A yell forced its way out of his throat but it sounded distant to Jon as most of his attention was possessed by an insatiable desire to continue reading. It gnawed at him as he tried to tear his attention away to Elias and was rewarded with another stinging blow. Only one thing for it then, get through the statement and get out. “statement taken from subject at eighteen o seven, twenty seventh of may, nineteen twenty thr-” CRACK Jon trailed off with a whimper, doing his best to breathe through it "...three. statement begins.”He paused, anticipating another blow, tension hung heavy in the air, he tentatively began to read the next sentence, before Jon had finished the first word Elias had delivered three short sharp swots, barely giving Jon a chance to breathe in between them, let alone read. A delayed, silent scream wrenched itself from Jon’s lips as agony and shame coursed through him. But within micro-seconds his thoughts were back on the statement, He had to know what it said, he didn’t know why but it seemed more important than anything else could possibly be, dignity be damned, so he continued, every word a minfield ready to explode with the sharp crack of a hand against his sore cheeks.  
They continued like this for the better part of two hours, Elias reigning down blow after vicious blow over Jon’s red raw backside. Half way through the statement, Elias, becoming increasingly irate with Jon’s speed, or lackthereoff, yanked his pants down and just open fired, using the source of his irritation as a sort of personal punching bag. The archivists screams and misplaced attempts at begging rang through the office. Elias stopped, straightened his tie and collected himself as Jon broke down and collapsed over the desk, chest heaving with sobs, half naked and terrified, Doing his best to control choked shuddering wails. A shiver rocketed down his spine as he felt a far too gentle hand caress it’s way through his hair in stark contrast to the hands that had just been beating him to a pulp, surely they couldn't be the same hands? Hot breath tickled his ear as the question was whispered clear as day.  
“What does the statement say Jon?”  
His whole body screamed at him as he summoned all the strength he had left to prop himself onto his forearms and carry on reading through the breaths that hitched and the tears that refused to stay put.  
After two and a half long hours finally, finally it was over. Except it wasn’t, suddenly images propelled their way into Jon’s mind, he saw himself lips and eyes swollen red and puffy from crying, face streaked with tears and snot, exposed arse radiating heat, bare and bruised, legs shaking as he was forced to re-live the punishment he’d just received second by excruciating second. “Look at yourself Jon,” Elias voice rang through his head. “You think I ever had to waste time like this with Gertrude? You’re pathetic Jon. Crying like a school boy in my office, look at yourself!” a barrage of images of Jon in his worst light, not just him at the institute, short and snippy with co-workers but as a precocious and deeply annoying child, a burden to everyone he interacted with. And look at him now he was still just pretentious, with a desperate need for information, why else would he need it other than to make himself feel like he was better than everyone else? It was the image of his childhood bully that broke him, Jon just standing by and watching as he was eaten alive, Jon, ineffectual, crying desperately, on the pavement, on his bosses desk. Only able to watch as terrible things unfold, never taking action. He really was pathetic. Oh god. He howled, his fragile sense of self completely undone.  
A smile crept it’s way onto Elias’s face as he watched his Archivist, broken and blubbering on the desk before him. Good, sometimes you have to burn down the forest in order to grow it back lusher and greener. He’d just lit the kindling.


End file.
